


Sharpe's Freedom

by Sharpiefan



Category: Sharpe - All Media Types, Sharpe Series - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:08:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharpiefan/pseuds/Sharpiefan





	Sharpe's Freedom

**Spoiler:** _Sharpe's Tiger_  
 **Fanfic100 Prompt:** Independence  
[](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=aos_challenge)[](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=aos_challenge) **aos_challenge** **prompt:** Freedom  
 **Word count:** 886  
 **Rating:** 12  
 **Pairing/Characters:** Sharpe, Lawford

  
Sharpe kept working at cleaning his musket, trying to ignore the glances Lawford kept sending his way. He was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. Sometimes he'd lean back, only to sit up again as his back protested at the pain. Eventually he gave up and twisted around so that he could lean against the wall sideways, which was neither as comfortable as he wanted, nor as painful as leaning back had been.

The two of them had been in Seringapatam for about two weeks now, and Gudin seemed to be happy with them so far. It had been mainly down to Sharpe to chivvy the Lieutenant into beginning to learn the basic skills of a soldier, skills that were as foreign to Lawford now as they were to any new recruit. Maybe those skills were more foreign to Lawford; most recruits were used to working, but the Lieutenant had always had servants to fetch and carry and do things, even loading his gun for him when he went shooting.

Lawford seemed to revel in the discipline of soldiering in a way that Sharpe found perplexing. He'd even insisted Sharpe retie his queue for him, after washing out the flour from it when they'd arrived here.

Sharpe himself was enjoying the freedom from the harsh discipline of the 33rd, even though he still kept his musket as clean here as he ever had done as a redcoat. That was the only vestige of his Army life that remained visible, however. He'd discarded his uniform as soon as he could, replacing the thick red woollen jacket and white trousers with one of the purple tiger-striped tunics the Tippoo Sultan's troops wore. Fresh waves of pain had coursed over his back when he'd pulled the stock from around his neck, but he suffered them willingly, just to be free of the stiff restricting leather collar that had represented everything he hated about the Army since he'd taken the shilling.

Lawford had followed suit, but when Sharpe had pulled his hair from its queue, Lawford had shaken his head and kept walking. Maybe the Lieutenant didn't understand the freedom Sharpe had here. Yes, there were duties for them to do, but there was no Hakeswill bullying the men into giving him what he wanted, no threats of extra duties or punishments for not complying with Hakeswill's wishes. There was no Morris or Shee, who every soldier in the regiment tried to avoid for fear of receiving a flogging.

No, Sharpe was enjoying life, even though his back still hurt when he made a careless movement. Lawford would never – could never – know just how thankful Sharpe felt for being here. Lawford had never dreaded being pulled up for a minor infraction, as Sharpe and his friends did every parade.

Lawford seemed to impose more discipline on himself here than Sharpe had known him to have in the Army, while he himself revelled in the freedom from discipline that they had here. No, that wasn't right... he was enjoying the freedom from fear. There was no bullying Hakeswill, no drunken Morris, no cats-o'-nine-tails. And Sharpe loved it.

He was well aware that this time couldn't last, that there would come a time when he'd be back with the ranks, being ignored by the officers unless he'd done something wrong. But for now, the Lieutenant was just a soldier. Yes, Sharpe had to correct him sometimes, and yes, there were times he needed to explain something he'd already explained perfectly clearly several times before. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd shown Lawford how to strip his musket down, but the next time the officer asked, he'd willingly show him again. He'd never have this much patience with a recruit, and he was perfectly well aware that once they got back to the army Lawford would be well within his rights to ignore him. In fact, even Sharpe would think it strange if he didn't.

But here, now, they were equals, or as equal as they could ever be. And that was a freedom too, in its own way. The first time he'd made himself address Lawford as 'Bill' he'd been taken aback by the fierce look the officer had shot him, before realising that Lawford hadn't understood the rules of this new game they were playing. And if Lawford didn't understand the rules, they could both end up very dead indeed. And that was why Sharpe had been dragged along on this damn fool mission in the first place.

“Are you all right, Dick?” Lawford asked, noticing him fidgeting yet again. It had taken long enough for Lawford to learn the rules, and Sharpe had eventually had to tell him to treat it as a game. Once he'd grasped that idea, he'd taken to it like a duck to water.

“Yeah, back still hurts like buggery, but there's nowt you can do about it.” Sharpe grinned, and watched Lawford bend over his musket again, soft hands sliding the cloth up and down the barrel of the gun.

Yes, it was never going to last. And things could turn very nasty indeed when it came to an end. But, for now, Sharpe was revelling in a freedom he'd never known before. Sharpe's freedom.


End file.
